


Nephilim

by 221B_Marauder



Category: Shadowhunters - Cassandra Clare, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angels, Angst, Demons, Friendship, Heightened abilities, M/M, Nephilim, Romance, Shadowhunters - Freeform, Teenagers, Weapons, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 22:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221B_Marauder/pseuds/221B_Marauder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, two underage Shadowhunters still in training live in the London Institute. Together they take on Downworlders as efficiently as Parabatai without actually being one. They and a few others are charged under Lestrade, Head of the London Institute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nephilim

**Author's Note:**

> For the fuckyeahjohnlockfanfic AU Johnlock Competition.

Sherlock sprinted through the nearest alley before catapulting himself onto the roof and running across the top, jumping from building to building. He could outrun vampires with the swiftness rune marked onto his skin. But they should have come by daylight. 

He watched John’s powerful leap from the roof he had just come down from to land into a graceful crouch in front of him while taking deep breaths. They had just managed to get away from the Vampire’s hollow with the knowledge that the killer was indeed one of London’s vampires. 

This would set back more peace and rights talk between the Clave and Downworlders. 

“We need to tell Greg.” John declared into the night as he straightened. “We can’t go back there alone, not now.”

Sherlock turned to look incredulously at John. Of course they could go back, they were Nephilim. Between himself and John they wouldn’t have trouble subduing the vampires to get who they needed. 

“No. No, don’t give me that look. We’re not going back, Sherlock. We should have sought out the leader of the clan to begin with.” John contradicted looking at him sternly, unknowingly shielding Sherlock from any exit other than through John. 

Sherlock bent his neck to look better at John’s face. His strong eyesight showed him John's face which had bleeding scratches from temple to neck. John was so quick on his feet and with his hands and was excellent in hand to hand combat, but there he stood injured.

Lifting a hand to touch the tips of his long pale fingers against the abrasions on his neck, Sherlock pressed his fingers firmly against the blood.

“Did you swallow any vampire blood?” Sherlock asked with his focus on John and nothing else. 

John was silent far longer than his liking. As he glanced up from his finger to John’s eyes with a questioning look, John blinked slowly before shaking his head minutely. Not enough to move Sherlock’s fingers off him. 

Sherlock only nodded, bringing his hand back and leaning his head closer to examine the bleeding welts the vampires' nails had raked into his skin. John sucked in a sharp breath before holding it and himself very still.

Both of Sherlock’s hands reached for John’s face and gently used them to brace John’s head as he tilted it up and back to get a better look. It was a bloody thing and Sherlock felt an Iratze was necessary. 

“It probably needs a healing rune.” John suggested weakly as Sherlock let his right hand fall from John and onto his belt to pull out his stele. 

“Go on, push your shirt away.” Sherlock demanded softly but with no less authority. John rolled his eyes at him, but Sherlock could not miss the amusement on his friend’s face as he did what was asked anyway.

Sherlock used his left hand to help John keep his shirt pushed down below his collarbone as he worked the stele into marking the healing rune over John’s warm and already rune marked skin. 

It wasn’t the first time Sherlock thought about Parabatai since John had shown up at the London Institute. Sherlock hadn’t met many Shadowhunters his age who were worth fighting alongside with other than that one year Sherlock and Victor worked together as they trained in London.

That was two years ago when Sherlock had been fifteen and Victor had been seventeen and Sherlock had been entertaining the idea of sharing souls with another. It wasn’t anything sexual to begin with, Victor was interesting and he was strong and fought smartly as well. The two with their combined abilities would have been unstoppable.

But Victor had been seventeen and Sherlock fifteen and unwilling to share his soul with an acquaintance, and so Sherlock watched as the only person he had met who would have helped him become even greater, came of age and finished his year before returning back to Idris. 

Sherlock cleared his throat as he let John loose again after watching the skin knit into unmarked skin. The scratches were closed and he watched closely as John licked his fingers before wiping at his blood stained face. Only to smear it further out, he had half a mind to let him walk around like that. 

He let out a long suffering sigh before leaning down to use his thumb to wipe at John’s chin, cheek, temple, and neck. Once satisfied that the redness that remained was because of his harsh rubbing and not actual blood on his skin, Sherlock glanced back up to John’s eyes. 

And the next second Sherlock was leaning down to touch his lips lightly against John’s. 

Then more firmly as John pressed closer to him, he fought back a soft sigh that threatened to escape. He couldn’t let it. This was the last day Sherlock would get this opportunity and he didn't want to remember how much he actually enjoyed it past actually committing the act.

But John obviously had no concerns with being verbal as he pressed even closer still. His mouth opening up to Sherlock and Sherlock denied the chance to convince John of committing this act swiftly swept into John’s mouth for the tag. 

It was everything he remembered and more. So much more. 

Nothing like what he had shared with Donovan. An angry kiss Sally had pushed on him after he’d saved her life by drawing the demon away from her and to him. It had happened while he was incapacitated and the hated Silent Brother had left his room. 

Even better than when Victor had sought him out before he took the portal back to Idris and he and Sherlock pressed close, mouths hotly against each other and hands in each other’s trousers. 

It was also surprisingly vastly superior to the time he and Irene kissed at the party in Alicante, the capital of Idris, last year during Mycroft’s birthday and Sherlock had wanted to ruin his brother’s celebration for forcing him to attend. Because it had annoyed his brother, and that had been wonderful at the time.

And now John was pressed against him, body firm and pleasantly hot, and his mouth dark and soft and wet and very much interesting against Sherlock’s tongue as he explored. 

John let out a sigh as he reciprocated Sherlock’s movements. Sherlock fought to open his eyes to observe John who was obviously finding pleasure in returning his attention to Sherlock, and this was another reason why John could never be his Parabatai. Because Sherlock would have had every chance to fall in love with John Watson if he had the time, only he would not get that time.

And so Sherlock tore his mouth away from John. He realized he was gasping for air, gasping much harder than before when he had just finished running away from vampires with John. He idly thought breathing was no longer as boring as before when his chest was suddenly clenching painfully and his breath hitched. Because John could do that, he could help make things less boring. 

John glanced up at him, biting his lip in worry as he apologized with his very expressive eyes. He knew it wasn’t fair. John was being so unfair to Sherlock by taking such a kiss from him even if Sherlock had been the one to offer, by giving him the chance to deduce what he felt and wanted and what could have been. Wouldn’t it have been kinder to reject him before their lips touched?

“I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry.” John pleaded for forgiveness in that one sentence. 

Sherlock straightened to his full height, his face as still and controlled as ever. “Come along John, We need to tell Lestrade where to find his killer.” 

And Sherlock walked away from John, expecting him to follow. Because this was the last time John would follow, the last time he would be able to. And John followed. 

* * *

John had left him at dawn. Had stood up from the armchair across from Sherlock, walked to him and pressed his hand firmly against his chest to feel his heart beating. He knew that was why John had done it and not the excuse given of keeping him seated. 

And Sherlock had let him. Had sat still and watched calmly as John said goodbye and Sherlock watched his best friend walk out of the library to leave the institute and head to the Silent City. No backwards glance, no words. 

He thought extensively at what mark John would receive. He had researched the process the moment John Watson had taken a room at the Institute. That is how Sherlock knew that when John came back, because he would come back if only for a short while, that John would never be the same again. Because the first rune you were given to begin the process of becoming a Silent Brother meant taking away what was inherently you to broaden the abilities of a Brother, to start as a blank canvas. 

When Molly entered the Library after lunchtime, Sherlock knew. And he sat very still with his body coiled tightly as if ready to spring.

“He’s back” Molly murmured from the door as she announced the news of John’s return.

Sherlock jumped to his feet the moment she finished speaking, he was torn between finding a quieter place to be left alone and to go to John. 

“You – it’s bad. Greg’s with him.” She admitted and that was enough for Sherlock to make his decision as he fled around her and out of the Library not once sparing her a glance.

Rushing down through corridors in John’s direction, Sherlock despaired at what he would find. But before he even reached the end of the hall he could hear muffled sounds coming from John’s room. He sped forwards and pushed his way in without bothering to knock.

John was lying on his back, eyes shut tightly with tears running down from the corners as he thrashed around on the bed, his gold hair was sweat soaked and lank and flopping around. Greg Lestrade, Head of the London Institute, stood a foot away looking down at the young man.

“John” Sherlock breathed as he stumbled closer, his reaction much stronger than he had last night to a little blood, this was infinitely worse.

“Sherlock” Lestrade hissed, making to push Sherlock out. “You shouldn’t be here.” He continued as John let out another cry before falling still and panting heavily, his mouth opening widely with whimpers escaping his throat every so often before pressing tightly together.

“He shouldn't. He won’t be able to complete the process.” Sherlock snapped, his fingers twitching and his mind yelling at him to do something, anything useful.

“Do not insult him, it is also none of your concern.” Lestrade corrected with forced patience he normally had no time for when it came to Sherlock.

“Don’t be stupid! John, a Monk, a Silent Brother? You can’t believe he chose this!” Sherlock shouted. 

“If the Brothers and the Clave support this process, so should you.” Lestrade countered.

Sherlock glared him down. It wasn’t the time to argue over John who was panting shallowly in pain. “What rune did they give him?” He demanded.

“I wasn’t told. But it was marked into his chest.” Lestrade replied quietly, standing perfectly still.

Sherlock stepped closer to John and pulled the covers down to rest pooled around John's waist. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the dark blood staining his shirt. Immediately he began to unbutton it, trying to be as gentle as possible.

Looking through the mess of blood and burned skin he could still make out the much darker rune that had recently been burned to the side of his chest and near his shoulder, a little above his heart. It was the rune of isolation. This rune would effectively distance John from his emotions, his empathy, everything that was good about John, and everything that Sherlock could have had.

“By the Angel” Lestrade cursed, taking a horrified step back. Even he, an experienced Shadowhunter had his fears about the Silent Brothers who could break your mind in the blink of an eye. Eyes the Silent Brothers no longer had. 

Sherlock swallowed a curse. He lowered his hands to touch John’s wrist lightly with his finger tips and was shocked when John let out a scream of pain as he unconsciously tried both squirming away and closer to an even more horrified Sherlock.

“We shouldn’t touch him.” Lestrade said unsteadily. 

“Yes,” Sherlock agreed quietly, retracting his hand back to his side. His voice steady despite what had just happened.

“You know what this means, Sherlock.” Lestrade hesitated. “I’m sorry.”

“Get out.” Sherlock commanded, turning away from Lestrade and John by sitting on the edge of John’s bed.

He didn’t see but he heard Lestrade leave the room, heard him shut the door lightly with a small click, felt the pressure change in the room and finally he fell forward with his head between his knees, his hands clutching tightly at his hair. His best friend was no longer his. He would have had a Parabatai if they had met sooner, if John hadn’t been singled out by the Clave to become an archivist.

“John.” Sherlock mourned.

* * *

By the end of a fortnight, because that was how long John had suffered in his silence and isolation, Sherlock was exhausted and pacing was all he could do to keep from trembling or clawing his own brain out.

Because every day he tried to sabotage the work of the rune burned into John, every day he touched John’s wrist and every day John screamed in pain until he only cried and then only whimpered. 

So when Sherlock leaned over to touch his wrist again, and John flinched away, and his eyes opened as they stared unseeingly up at the ceiling, Sherlock waited with impatience and foolish unguarded hope for John to show that he was still John. When John finally blinked and turned his head to look at Sherlock, Sherlock knew that John was still _his_ and not the Clave’s. Because John’s blue eyes looked at him with concern and exhaustion and something else. 

“Sh’lock” John slurred stupidly before beginning to push himself to recline against pillows he cautiously pushed back. 

Sherlock watched as John palmed his chest where the rune had been marked. And a long shuddering exhale left John. He forced himself to wait patiently, to see what John would say. “I – I dunno if I’m still right.” John confessed in an exhausted tone. 

And he smiled. Because if John could say that, could tell that he was confused, then John was fine. “I don’t think you’re compatible to the life of a Silent Brother” Sherlock announced.

“Yeah,” John sighed as he watched Sherlock closely for a long while before his head lolled onto his own shoulder as he fell asleep. 

John had to hold the Mortal Sword and when he did it was decided by all he was not compatible at the moment. That they would try again when he turned twenty-two. Because if John was not ready now at seventeen, he could be in five years, and he would be tested again because he was promised by the Clave.

It did mean John would not be able to see Harry, the sister he had long searched for after his parent’s early deaths that had left John alone among the mundanes. The sister he searched for despite not having clear memories of her because it was the only family he had left who could finally tell him the truth. Because if John failed again at continuing the process to become a Silent Brother he would never see his sister, he would never learn his full name, and he would never inherit what was presumably rightfully his before his parents decided to leave The Clave. 

So Sherlock was patient as John recovered. He was there to provide John with strength runes and healing runes and other runes that would help make him feel more like himself until the original disgusting isolation rune left his skin no longer marked black. 

When John recovered he helped Sherlock solve a simple case over a minor demon loose among the mundanes that had already killed half a dozen humans in a week. The other shadowhunters in the institute couldn't solve it and It had been a boring case, but it did get John out. 

They went to Angelo’s after the case, who catered to both Shadowhunters and Downworlders twenty four hours a day seven days a week, for breakfast with the sun a few hours from rising. 

“I’m going to need you to mark me again.” John spoke as he speared a sausage link. “Strength and a stabilizing rune after I wake up if you’re still there.” He finally glanced up to look at Sherlock. “My hand still shakes every morning” he looked back down with what looked like shame. 

Sherlock stared back steadily, “Of course”. 

Only Sherlock wouldn’t have to make a trip to John’s room when John woke up. Because they never got the chance to sleep that day, could no one else remember how to deal with demons anymore? 

Sherlock pulled back slightly with a wet pop as he panted for air. He watched as John’s eyes opened slowly and Sherlock was hit with how impossibly blue they were. How heatedly they looked up at him. His fingers dug into John’s sides, grabbing all he could.

John let both hands run down the sides of his head and across his shoulders before resting lightly on his upper arms. It seemed John was not attempting to pull or push away. This was good, maybe.

He felt John’s giggles before he heard them. He could only smirk in return before John was pulling him in and demanding breathlessly that Sherlock kiss him again.

And Sherlock did kiss him again, pushed him onto the bed before resting both knees on either side of his waist and moving quickly by lowering to rest against John’s thighs despite knowing how tired John was. He leaned back to look at John before a warm and wet pair of lips were pressed briefly against the base of his throat. “John” escaped his lips unwillingly in a breathy length.

John glanced up with a satisfied look. Then his hands traveled from Sherlock’s waist to his hips and back again. “I think I like you like this.” John admitted.

Sherlock smirked. “You think?” He questioned.

John smiled, “I like you like this.” He reiterated as he squeezed at Sherlock’s hips. “I like you quite a lot actually, if it isn’t obv- Sherlock!” John voiced, not finishing what he was thinking. 

“I know!” Sherlock snapped, rolling off of John and the bed gracefully to his feet as the bell of the institute vibrated through his room.

“Weapons, do you have any weapons in here?” John rushed, fingering his stele to make sure he still had it on him and beginning to carefully mark himself with an energy rune.

“Just a broken Seraph blade or two” Sherlock mumbled as he dug through his chest of old broken and useless weapons. He heard John groan.

“Forget them. Come to the weaponry room with me.” Sherlock felt strong hands grip his upper arms and haul him up before letting him go once standing tall. 

“Your runes?” Sherlock questioned as the two raced out of his room for the weapons the institute had. 

“Later.” John answered as the two flew around a corner and nearly slammed into Donovan and Anderson.

“The alarm!” Sally snapped at them with a bow in her hand and arrows to her back. Nathanial seemed to be holding a quarterstaff and looked almost panicked with his eyes opened wide.

“We Know!” Sherlock snarled before pushing past them and leading John the rest of the way to the weaponry room.

After getting weapons, Sherlock left the armory with a large sword strapped to his back along with several blades and daggers strapped strategically. John left with two seraph blades he had carefully named _Mihael_ and _Perpetiel_ with several more daggers on his body, and his specialized gun.

Lestrade was waiting for them behind his desk in the library. He didn’t wait to be prompted by any of his charges. Sherlock listened impatiently as he helped John much more patiently out of his shirt to add more runes to his body before they headed out. 

* * *

Sherlock swung the sword in a wide arch, black ichor streaked through the air. Several droplets fell onto his face that burned when it touched his skin. 

_Surgat_ was nowhere to be seen. And despite his runes giving his abilities more strength, even Sherlock was beginning to tire. They couldn’t get _Surgat_ as easily as they had hoped, the demon continued to unlock everything and they had to wait for the Clave to send a reinforced box. 

He heard a familiar shout behind him and he whirled around wildly to see what had caused it. And there he saw John with a Seraph blade buried in the chest of a demon, crouched over the disgusting creature. But he noticed John wasn’t moving away and that was when he saw the thin needle tipped tail of the demon embedded in John’s hip.

But at that moment a large demon barreled towards him and distracted Sherlock as he had to defend himself. He pushed off the ground, jumping a good fifteen feet and twisting catlike into the air to swing bodily over and behind the demon.

With a swift downward strike as he came back down he cut through the demon in half as even more black ichor splattered across him before he rolled out of the way completely. He had to get to John. 

And as the thought crossed his mind, John streaked past him and bodily launched himself against another demon that had decided Sherlock's back was an easy target. He stared in surprise for a few seconds as he watched John ruthlessly slice through the smaller demon with his blade.

Ichor dripped through John’s fingers and down his wrists. It was sheer skill that John maintained a good grip on his blades. “Go help Nathanial!” John suddenly snarled at him before sprinting away and launching himself at yet another demon who was attempting to climb the side of a building. 

Sherlock quickly glanced around for Anderson, if the idiot couldn’t keep out of trouble for more than a minute what use was he to the Institute? Anderson was attempting to fight off three demons by himself with his quarterstaff. With an aggravated growl, Sherlock ran to Anderson.

Calculating a quick trajectory he flung his sword where it embedded itself into and through the head of the biggest demon as he launched himself not unlike John at the one nearest to him. He named his blade after the Angel _Hamaliel_ in the air bringing the seraph blade to life right before using it swiftly and efficiently into the demon. 

He didn’t bother to see if Anderson handled the last demon because at that moment three shots rang through the air. 

And upon inspecting their current area, he saw demon carcass and black ichor staining the concrete. Jogging with Anderson at his heels he turned the corner to see John and Lestrade who had _Surgat_ cornered between them and a wall.

If only the Clave would come quickly. A slight body suddenly flew high above him onto another roof of a building and Sherlock knew it was Donovan prepared to help corner the demon from above. 

_Surgat_ was bleeding, ichor dripped down his chest but he grinned wickedly at them all. Demons were so arrogant, he disliked it when they were disappointments. 

The demon extended his arm and clawed hand out. Then he clenched his fist tightly, a dark and satisfied look on its face. And then a scream pierced through the morning sun. And John was crumpling, gun and blade falling from his fingers as he clawed fitfully as his hip. The hip where _Surgat’s_ demon had gotten John just moments ago. 

Rage coursed through Sherlock, it was thick and burning and part of his blood. He was upon _Surgat_ at that moment, Seraph blade in one hand and dagger in the other. Sherlock wished for his sword, he wielded it more comfortably than the blades in his hands. 

Four arrows were embedded in the Demon’s hide and Sherlock didn’t have time to appreciate the swiftness of Donovan’s marksmanship before he was darting on and around the demon. First action being cutting off the hand that had offended him by hurting his friend.

 _Surgat’s_ screams joined John’s that were still ringing through Sherlock’s ears and he ignored the ichor that sluiced over his arm. The demon was enraged and Sherlock had no idea of when Lestrade had joined him and of how long the two kept the demon occupied before the Clave finally arrived.

Mycroft oversaw Anthea, Idris' strongest witch, send the Demon into its pyksis. 

Sherlock hovered around as a Silent Brother worked on John, John who was thankfully conscious and blessedly no longer screaming in pain. 

He wouldn’t get to be alone with John until well after supper, and mostly he guarded John as he slept. Because John still had the nightmares from when he had the Isolation rune burned onto him and Sherlock knew that John had fewer nightmares with someone around.

But now even with Sherlock’s presence, John was having a nightmare. He twisted in his sheets and his face scrunched up before the nearly breathless sounds began. And Sherlock moved towards the bed and gently shook John awake for the second time that night.

John met his eyes, widening as he saw Sherlock again. And relief was so evident on John’s face that Sherlock could not resist resting a hand against John’s head and smoothing his thumb across his cheek. 

John made no other face than the grimace of pain as he shifted in the bed and Sherlock understood what the movement meant. He carefully lowered himself beside John, laying against the side that was not injured. 

“I’ll try not to wake you.” John promised as he let his hand explore the bed for his before locking their fingers together. “If I do, please wake me.”

Sherlock scooted closer to John as a reply and willed himself to relax until John fell asleep.

* * *

Sherlock was standing over his table filled with beakers and spongy items when John limped his way in, His new cane clacking against the aged wood of his experiment room.

He really had to do something about that. The Silent Brothers had regularly for the past week dug their way into John’s mind to find what the problem was until John opted out of the invasion that only weakened him.

But it was difficult to get John to go out. So Sherlock went behind his closed lab door with Molly occasionally bringing him food to tempt him, and it was a pathetic existence for both John and himself if they continued this way. 

“Lestrade says he needs you out today.” John spoke from the doorway.

“What for?” Sherlock asked, turning his attention to John. His eyes glanced over John and soaked up all the information he was offering to Sherlock so easily. _Still sleeping terribly. Leg hurt him more this morning than yesterday. Nicked himself while shaving a few times with his returned hand trembling. Used an iratze._

“Those three _suicides_ ,” John emphasized the last word telling Sherlock all he thought about the subject and Sherlock looked away, that was boring. “There’s been another one.” John finished.

“So there are four suicides then, what am I supposed to do? Do Lestrade’s job for him because it’s so pathetically boring that he doesn’t want to do it himself?” Sherlock scoffed before sitting down on his stool in obvious disappointment.

“There’s a note this time.” John pressed on, deciding to be undisturbed by the tone Sherlock had taken.

His head shot up to look at John, fully look at him again. “A note” He repeated and John smiled softly at him. 

“That’s what I said.” He agreed.

“Will you come with me?” Sherlock asked, standing up from his seated position and walking around the table to stand in front of John.

John glanced sideways before looking down, his cane bouncing off the heel of his foot as he moved it in a new nervous habit.

“I need an assistant.” Sherlock insisted, because this is what John needed. Not Silent Brothers and their meddling and not tea, but Sherlock and his cases. 

“I don’t want to hold you back.” John finished lamely as Sherlock gave him his best glare. 

“Don’t be an idiot!” Sherlock snarled, hating that John thought himself inadequate. Sherlock would have thought it of anyone else but this was John. “Will you come?” He demanded an answer as he crowded even closer to John.

“By the Angel, yes” John muttered suddenly with a familiar look on his face as he looked up at him and Sherlock grinned widely at John as he dashed past him to find Lestrade. 

He could hear John following him down the halls to the Library, the echo of his cane following him as well. 

He just had to get rid of the bloody cane. 

Then John would always follow him.

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes on terms used in the story if needed:
> 
>  _Nephilim ___\- Race of Humans born with Angelic blood. They are referred to as Shadowhunters and hunt demons that enter Earth. Their mandate is to protect Humans.  
>  _Stele ___\- Weapons used by Shadowhunters and often used to draw runes.  
>  _Runes ___\- Markings used by Nephilim for different purposes that make them stronger than regular humans.  
>  _Iratze_ \- Healing rune.  
>  _Parabatai ___\- Pair of Nephilim Warriors who fight together and are closer than siblings.  
>  _Silent Brother_ \- Powerful group of all male Shadowhunters. They take on the most powerful runes that mutilate their bodies. They are the most feared and dangerous of Shadowhunters.  
>  _Seraph Blade_ \- Call upon the power of the Angel's name to use their power and are the primary weapon of the Nephilim.  
>  _Idris_ \- Shadowhunter home country.  
>  _The Clave_ \- And Enclave, Government for the world of Half Humans.  
>  _Mundane(s)_ \- Regular humans ignorant of the Nephilim/Demon world.  
>  More info can be found [here](http://shadowhunters.wikia.com/wiki/The_Shadowhunters%27_Wiki).
> 
> I have been entertaining the idea of Sherlock and John being Shadowhunters. The idea was to make a chapter fic out of it at some point. It seemed like a good idea to do a quick test run with this challenge first by making it a short story and different from the chapter version. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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